


Strip.

by miscellaneous_writings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- High School, Angst, Bottom!Harry, Drama, Drinking, High School, M/M, Pole Dancing, Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut, Underage!Harry, blowjob, larry stylinson - Freeform, stripper!Louis, top!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miscellaneous_writings/pseuds/miscellaneous_writings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles solves his problems by going to a strip club and drinking his thoughts away. But maybe he's found a new addiction. </p><p>Or, the AU where a sixteen-year-old boy meets a stripper. Everybody wins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hii. This isn't my account, but my best friend is a sweet heart and let me post on it. Hope you like it :)

Harry needed to get away. 

It's just after dinnertime. His parents were fighting as usual, with glass plates thrown and shattered and profanities shouted. Nothing was different, this was just like everything at the Styles' home. Well, not home. Harry wouldn't even consider it at that. He and Gemma usually found a place to stay as a go- to location. A comfort zone, Gemma's being her dorm at UNI, and Harry's being his best friend Zayn's house. 

Zayn knew what was happening with their family, everyone did. Peers and teachers from school, everyone in their little neighborhood in the northern suburbs of London. The question floating around everyone's heads, though; why are Harry and Gemma still there?

Because Harry is sixteen, and he and his sister are broke. 

There are many other simple solutions to answer that question, but they come with far too many complicated consequences that led Harry to believe he'll never get out.

And don't get him wrong, Zayn welcomed Harry with open arms and buckets of food, letting the younger boy visit and stay and go any time he pleased. They would cuddle and Zayn would hold the lanky boy in his ink-vandalized arms, whispering into the mop of curls that Harry had a purpose, that there really were people out there that loved him. Harry drifted off to an unmoving sleep nearly every time, with a small smile on his lips. But his conscious mind would thrive with negativity, beating him down and isolating the already-outcasted Harry even further from everyone. 

Like the other day, for example:

His parents were fighting over something as simple as who pays for the gas to their tiny junked up Datsun, and who got to use it. Harry's dad needed the car for work, while his mum and Gemma used it to get groceries and other provisions for the family every once in a while. 

That's why Harry usually walked to school(they lived too far out of the district for the bus to stop by). He would have to wake up hours before the sun rose, stumbling out of the cold, ratty mattress classified as his bed and pull on his scuffed boots. Harry would practically run, no matter the weather or temperature, just to make it in time for the late bell. But rather than returning home yesterday afternoon, he walked to the Malik home after school. 

•••

Harry arrived to his best friends cottage-like home yesterday after school. It had been raining in cold, pounding sheets ever since that morning, so Harry arrived and left school with dripping, matted curls. Zayn opened the door with a small smile and pulled Harry in, patting him down with a fluffy towel waiting by the door until he was somewhat able to walk about the house without flooding it. 

Zayn knew what was wrong so he didn't say a word, he rarely did, and pulled Harry into a tight hug. He sang with his lips pressed to Harry's forehead and cheeks and hair once they crawled onto the older boys single bed, murmuring low toned words until Harry fell asleep.

"You're getting so thin Haz... So thin and weak." He whispered with a frown, cradling the boy in his arms once Harry had stopped responding for the next few hours. 

Gemma called it depression, his parents called it a mental illness. 

Whatever 'it' was, the one and only way Harry could null the thoughts in his head that fired at him day and night, could really forget about everything for a simple hour, was to drink himself into oblivion. 

•••

"Thanks Paul." Harry murmured in a with a slight nod of his head, ruffling his hair and stepping through the dark rusty entrance in the back of the alleyway. 

It was a small club on the corner of a city block, down the little alleyway was the back door that Harry entered. He was a local, sixteen year old boy who wore the same black skinny jeans and tight black tee nearly every day, and who happened to be good friends with the bouncer and bartender of the busiest club of downtown London. But hats a different story.

Immediately, Harry was engulfed in the smell of stale beer and hard liquor. The air was heavy and moist– he had to take a moment before being able to locate the fluorescent lights of the bar through the lingering steam. It was a Wednesday, so the strippers were setting up their poles and other props on stage, walking around with fluffy multicolored costumes that showed almost every inch of skin. Almost. 

Harry was sat at the third stool from the left, the flattened black cushion sinking even more under his body weight. "The usual." He murmured to the bartender, who gave him a concerned look before nodding and scuttling off to concoct his drink. 

This had been Harry's fifth night here during the week. And although he was so young, no one around was really sober enough to notice or comment. So everybody wins. 

After a long half hour, Harry's vision began to turn fuzzy and his mind curious. The music that was blaring droned out of his ears, now shaking the whole building with each bass note in a monotonic hum. 

Harry was swirling the clear liquor around in his glass. He barely noticed the bartender's eyes light up and a smile form on his face. "Oi Lou! Lovely show, can't wait to see you go on again." 

Harry was about to respond, about to say "Erm, I'm not 'Lou'." But an angelic voice that sounded like bells quickly interrupted his daze. 

"Thank you, Dave, I've been working up on my routine. After this performance I have a few private things to do before heading home. How have you been?" The angel chimed. To Harry, the voice was velvety and liquified and eloquent. Then again, Harry thought mustaches were eloquent in his state. But this is different. 

He saw a petite arm reach over the counter and slide back the drink, and a petite boy sit in the stool next to him.

Harry pressed his lips together in a tight, white line, looking over and risking the possibility of getting caught. 

The man looked young, almost as young as Harry, with an angular jaw and a bit of chestnut stubble that surrounded his lips. His lips alone were thin and pink– by this point, Harry wondered if they were soft and sweet like cotton candy. The mysterious boy had cheekbones that dropped off like cliffs, casting a dark shadow on the skin below. His nose was cute and round, set just right between his piercing eyes. Harry couldn't get a clear view from the position he was in on the stool, but he still noticed they were the bluest he'd ever seen– especially contrasting on his glowingly tanned skin, that was slightly flushed and layered with a thin, slick sheet of sweat. They were set perfectly under long, thick eyelashes that fluttered a bit as the boy made light conversation with Dave. His thin eyebrows were set at a face-flattering curve, the same color as his eyelashes and stubble and made his eyes look deep set and caring. His hair was a sandy caramel, swooping down low on his brow. He reached up casually with a tiny hand, pinching at the end with a thumb and forefinger and brushed it to the side, then went back on to laughing at whatever the bartender had said. 

Harry didn't realize he had been practically drooling over this boy until the tiny hand was pressed to his shoulder. "Hey mate, are you alright?" The angel asked, in a way that flooded Harry's ears like a melody and made his head swim. 

He swooned a bit, and gave a nervously vigorous nod. "Y-yes... Sorry." Harry managed to stutter out, gaping like a fish needs air. He was probably freaking the other lad out. 

But the beautiful toothy smile only widened, and he threw his head back in a shoulder-shaking laugh. Harry noticed the boy's protruding collarbones and an Adam's apple that stretched his skin, having to bite his lip hard from saying something to make the greeting any more awkward.

"Don't worry about it lad. Its nice to meet you, I'm Louis." 

The more words that floated from Louis's lips, the more Harry found himself gravitating toward his voice. It was almost closing time, and there was only one more performance left before Harry and Louis had to part ways and potentially never see each other again. 

The thought of that alone made Harry's heart sink back into his chest, but the melodic voice interrupted his daze once again. 

"Hey, I have to do this or else I won't get my tip." Louis whispered in a sudden hot puff, his face a lot closer than Harry had thought. When the curly lad startled, Louis's head lilted back in laughter. Harry wondered if he had ever seen anything more beautiful than that, the way this boy's laugh was like a girly cackle, and how his shoulders would shake. His tiny hand cupped his mouth with a pop to keep himself from getting weird looks. After calming down from his giggling he looked to Harry with flushed cheeks. "I'll be back soon, yeah? Stick around for a bit" Louis had managed to whisper breathlessly with a smile under the shell of Harry's ear, reaching over to brush his soft fingertips against Harry's for a lingering moment before sliding out of the barstool that was too tall for him and sashayed to the stairs. That boy got too close.

Harry noticed Louis's hips as the boy walked away. They were swaying back and forth almost teasingly, the outfit he was wearing accentuating his perfectly round bum even more. 

Louis's voice was still chiming in Harry's ears and bouncing around his skull when the music came on. 

It was a loud bass, the speakers that surrounded the stage booming and threatening to burst as the floor quivered with each vibrating beat. The entire club went dark, except for the colourful lights that illuminated the stage and flashed from below. 

After a good crowd of middle aged men had gathered in front of the stage, cheering and bouncing about a wide range of different amounts of cash, Louis stepped from the curtains. 

"Tommo! Tommo!" The men chanted in a low cheer, waving their hands in the air as if they're trying to catch the boy's alluring eyes. 

But Louis's gaze was fixed on something else. The pixie- haired boy reached up, flicked his hair to the side again with a thumb and forefinger, and locked his eyes on Harry. Harry could do nothing but blush and stare back, flustered and curious by the way that the pale spotlight made a thin layer of sweat on Louis's tanned skin glisten. And that his lust blown eyes were piercing straight through Harry's in a way that made the young boy shudder and watch with excitement. 

Louis came out along with two other young girls, jumping and swaying to the music as they neared the front of the stage. They were all relatively the same height, with the same curvy body type and light weight. But Louis with his heart shaped face and long eyelashes and a bum that every girl envied, Harry could tell he was the center of attention. 

And his abs were a different story. 

Throughout the routine, bits and pieces of fluffy costume would shed and be kicked into the mosh pit of drunken adults. The sequins and glitter glinted for a moment in the spotlights as they sprinkled to the stage floor. People were clawing and shoving to get to the front, scrambling to throw cash and coins onto the stage or even into Louis's hand. 

Louis was only donning a speedo by the end, his delicious hips swivelling and a leg wrapping around one of the silver poles. His motions mesmerised Harry, the sixteen year old's eyes widened with arousal and a shred of lust as he pressed his lips together in a tight line. He felt his black skinny jeans begin to constrict even more and let out a tiny whimper, shifting a bit so the pressure was changed on the seat. 

Louis caught his eye again, and what Harry had been doing. He looked up to the hunched over boy with a devilish smirk, then began to tantalisingly swish his hips around the pole, thrusting and bringing up his waist. He moved like liquid to the music– no wonder some of the men threw ridiculously immense amounts of money up at the boy. 

As the lights surrounding the club dimmed and regained their glow, and the performance ended, adults in the crowd grew antsy and shouting for an encore. Louis simply winked and spun on his heels, cat walking back behind the black curtain as the music faded back to a hum. 

Harry was beyond restless by this point. The air was heavy and hot, his clothes already clinging to him. Not only did was Harry beyond insensible, he had an aching boner in his pants. Louis hasn't come out from the curtains yet, and the boy did say he had a few 'private affairs' to attend to after this performance, so he'd probably be a while. 

Harry sighed and set the half empty glass down. He hadn't a clue as to how much he had drank, but at least his mind were off things for a while. Now he was to go home, crash on his cold mattress and wake up achingly early in the dark to get ready for school. 

Harry paid Dave a fair bill, slid off the barstool and landed on his feet with an uneasy thud. As he headed to the door, he felt dainty fingertips on the bottom of his spine and froze. "Don't be so eager to leave, yeah? I thought I had told you to wait for me Curly." Louis managed to whisper in his ear with a light laugh, turning Harry around to meet his mischievous smirk. 

•••

Before Harry could really register who he was talking to, Louis's lips were pressed up against his. Not in a desperate, eating- face kind of way, though. Louis had Harry's black cotton shirt interlaced in his tiny fingers, fisting at it and pulling Harry closer. 

Harry made a small purr of satisfaction, but pulled away when he needed air. He felt light and dizzy, like someone had filled him with helium and he floated away. 

"What just... What?" Harry asked breathlessly, looking up to Louis with widened eyes. He's never been kissed by a boy, let alone a stripper that he had talked to once. 

Louis simply smiled in response and looked down, his grin faltering as he had to untangle himself from Harry's shirt. He bit his lip and took a last glance up to meet Harry's sparkling eyes, before interlocking their bony fingers and pulling them both quickly behind one of the black curtains. 

"Where are we- oof!" Harry had the wind knocked out of him when Louis had pushed him by the chest against one of the cement walls. They were in a narrow corridor; one of many that led to the stage and bar and throughout the club. 

"What's your name?" Louis asked, leaning forward and ghosting his lips over Harry, just so that their breaths tangled and he could still feel the tingle on his lips from when they had kissed. He took Harry's hand and pulled him further down the hall, swinging open a thin black door and pulling the lad inside. Louis flickered on the fluorescent lights and locked the door behind Harry. The room was more than claustrophobic. 

"I- Harry. I'm Harry." Harry stuttered nervously, leaning back a bit so that only his broad shoulders and dark chocolate mop of curls were touching the cement. Harry's feet were about six inches from the wall, so his hips were jutted out with arms dangling at the sides. His hair was hanging low over his eyes, just so that the bottom of his glowing jade irises and blown pupils could see Louis. By this point, Harry was slightly tipsy, but more dizzy and breathless with his lips prickling. 

The tiny boy in front of him had feathery fringe and a normal outfit on. Just a plain band tee and some light washed jeans that were ripped at one of the knees and absolutely perfect around the ass. Louis looked up to Harry with a perfect smirk, his thin pink lips stretching impossibly wide over his teeth– although he didnt show any. He was standing with his feet on either side of Harry's, on tiptoes just to reach the taller boys lips. 

"Well I'd love to get to know you some more, Harry... I've had my eyes on you for a while." Louis murmured in a whisper, his hot breath tickling Harry's chin and jaw line. What? Louis's seen him before? How? Louis's hands, palms pressed to Harry's chest with thumbs barely touching, couldn't even cover the span of Harry's broad torso. They began to linger with light touches, trailing up and snaking around the young boy's neck. Louis's fingers curled and tugged slightly on the thin ringlets of hair that sprouted from the base of Harry's neck, causing the boy to yelp out in pleasure. 

Louis let out a soft chuckle and looked up, studying the expression on Harry's face. "You look a bit young to be here..." He whispered, leaning on the balls of his feet to suck marks on Harry's jaw, just under the shell of his ear. 

Harry let out a whimper in response and closed his eyes, his chest heaving in ragged breaths. "Y-yeah I... I'm sixteen." Harry stuttered out, to which Louis's smirk widened.

"Naughty boy." Louis mumbled, which drove Harry even further into insanity. The young boy gave a quick nod, to which Louis responded by pressing their lips together again. And again. And again. 

After quite a while of lip biting, teeth crashing, and tongue sucking, Louis's hands began to slide their way down to Harry's shirt. He peeled the sweat- clinging black cotton up and over Harry's head, causing the boy to shiver at the chilled air on his exposed skin. Louis's eyes widened, his dainty fingers immediately tracing down Harrys sternum and to the prominent v line protruding from the waistband of his jeans. 

"Fuck." Louis mumbled, in a low growl that made Harry's heart rabbit all the more. The stripper went straight to work, taking off his own shirt and standing on his toes to kiss Harry again. 

Harry let out something between a moan and a purr as Louis's lips encompassed his, wrapping his slender fingers around Louis's waist and the small of his back. Their hips pressed together, and all that could be heard were gasps, heavy breathing, and the scratchy sound of denim on denim echoing in the tiny room. 

"Have you ever had a lap dance Harry?" Louis whispered onto Harry's chin, pulling away for a moment to cherish the blown look on the lanky boy's face. 

"N-no..." Harry whispered back, his words floating out in little breathy slurs, his chest heaving for air. 

Louis smirked in response. "Blowjob?"

"No..."

"Sex?" 

Louis could tell Harry was hot and sweaty and bothered, and sexually tense to say the least. "No.." Escaped Harry's lips once again, and that's all Louis needed to force Harry into a dark supply closet and sink down to his knees. 

•••

"Hey Harry?" Louis asked in a relatively croaking voice. It was early in the morning the next day. The sun trickled through the silhouetted blinds of Louis's apartment, casting in orange stripes to paint and highlight every flawless angle of Harry's warm body next to him on the bed. 

"Hmm?" 

"I should get going. Rest up and lock the place when you head out, I'll see you at school, okay?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Lots and lots of smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note- I'm really sorry for the delay people, I'm trying as hard as I can. Also, this changes POV from Harry to Louis during the smut, idk why but it turned out like this. Happy reading!

That Wednesday night had been pretty weird for Harry. 

All he remembered was a constant pounding in his head— Or was that a headboard? 

Okay, so maybe he didn't remember /those/ details. He remembered little bits and pieces. 

Such as the loud and thumping music that flooded his ears and weighed his head down like alcohol. And those lights; Neon blues and reds and greens and purples that had scorched his skin on contact and reflected in the little beads of sweat that sparkled on his skin. Harry remembered something burning his throat, a familiar burn that he'd grown to love. 

Gentle caresses that controlled his movements with every swipe over the skin still tickled Harry's mind. And a soft, sweet and liquified voice chimed like bells and drizzled over the thoughts in his head like caramel. Warm and sticky whispers and promises exchanged under the sheets that turned into wet and purpling love bites, that then turned into bubbling and strained moans eliciting from the throats of them both. 

The moans were escaping from the beautiful mouth of a beautiful pixie-haired boy, who had been pressed flush against Harry's bare chest the majority of that night. He had woken up in a stranger's bed, which was odd. Harry could've sworn that those activities were carried out in the bar, or maybe in a car. Maybe all three? The same boy from that night was probably the source of the broken bed frame. Would Harry have to pay for that? Did his parents know? The breathless grunting and drawn out whimpers and fumbling hands and sloppy movements all jumbled together in an addicting melody. Harry was struggling to grasp the memory of that rhythmic soundtrack. Now all that was in his head was a constant chant of "Harry, Harry-" 

"/Harry!/"

Harry flickered his eyes up to meet those familiar, comfortable amber eyes. Well, Harry thought they were always a sort of 'roasted chestnut', but Zayn suggested– insisted– on amber. Who knew someone could get so defensive about his eye color? Not Harry. 

"Are you even listening to me?" 

Even Harry's thoughts were scrambled, some sentences mingling with others until it was a muddled puddle of words. He returned his best friend's glare with a blank, glassy-eyed gaze and shook his head. 

Zayn let out a dramatic groan and slammed his red locker, little bits of rust flaking off into the air after his slender hand had pulled away. They were in the city's grungy high school, it was about midday on Friday (over a week after Harry's... Encounter). Only three classes to go. The school had been scheduled for renovation three summers ago for newer lockers and team uniforms– not to mention the inclusion of girls in regular sports– but that never really worked out. 

Harry's best friend looked down at his feet and shifted his weight from foot to foot as he thought. He wasn't saying anything. 

It scared Harry most when Zayn got like this. All contemplative, quieter than usual and horribly, horribly anxious. After what felt like years of waiting, and after Harry's skin had been crawling with anxiety and anticipation, Zayn finally spoke.

"I'm just worried, Hazza." Zayn mumbled, his feet coming together again as he stood up straight and palmed at his face. Oh no. Not those eyes. Not /that/ look. The pouty mouth and turned down eyes that somehow worked every. Fucking. Time. When Zayn wanted a better grade, he used that face. When he wanted to ask a girl out, he used that face. When he wanted to get out of gym, he used that /face/ and still ended up getting laid. It was unbelievable. 

So the moment he saw it, Harry scoffed and shook his head, running a hand through his wild mop of curls and leaning back on his heel. He knew Zayn was just trying to be a good friend, but- 

"No." Harry crossed his arms and glared at that pout, shaking his head like a stubborn child. He swerved around Zayn's figure and grabbed the blue and red chemistry textbook from his own locker. "I'm fine, Zayn. Really. See?" Harry grinned until his jaw began to hurt and his chapped lips cracked in the center, his best friend's baffled and cautious expression reflecting his reaction to this scary mood change. The elder just shook his head. 

"I'll see you later, H. I really should be going. Come to my place if it gets bad tonight, alright? I was really worried when you didn't come." Zayn looked up with a half smile on his lips, although the emotion didn't reach his eyes. 

Harry couldn't recall the last time it had. 

•••••

The final bell had screeched throughout the halls in it's annoying alarm, jolting Harry out of his lingering daze. His eyes flickered from person to person, too short of a time to recognize each individual that passed by. His tattered boots scuffed the tile as he walked with a perpetual slouch, ratty bag slung over one slumped shoulder. Harry's face was probably sagging with lack of emotion, his skin translucent what with his lack of eating at home. 

He felt like a ghost, only coming back to reality when a kid slammed into him every now and then. Like a cliche middle school bully's target, or that short kid from that movie about sunflowers and bulimia and typewriters and weed and milkshakes and being outcasted. The actor's name was an alliteration of something, Harry looked him up one day to see if his life was really as shitty as it seemed in the beginning of the film. He couldn't remember. 

Harry decided to take a different path out of school, only in the hopes of finding a faster route home. Maybe he could even beat his dad there before the man came home from work. Arts department it is. 

•••••

The hallway was... Colorful, to say the least. Almost like in a musical or a cheesy movie, groups of eccentric students were huddled around one another—singing, showing off dance moves, playing with hacky sacks, bumping instrument cases and finger-painting one another. Some carried art portfolios and others music binders, scripts or dance pamphlets. Everything was bustling and busy and energetic. 

Harry had a mad respect for these people. They looked like the people who came to high school to really live, to do what they love to do and practice it with some serious strenuosity. If only Harry were talented enough, or outgoing enough, these would be his friends. 

He was glancing at a girl with more colors in her hair than in the recognized spectrum when a surprising force pushed into his chest. It was surprisingly familiar– same dainty hands, gentle but forceful fingertips that pressed into Harry's chest, quick and snappy and rough. 

Harry made a squeak of discomfort when one of the locks from the rusty door pushed into the center of his spine. His head slammed back too, which blurred his vision and caused his brain to vibrate in his skull. So much for that mild dose of headache relieving ibuprofen he'd stolen from his mums cabinet that morning. 

But Louis only smiled, his thin, bubble gum-colored lips tugging up at the corners. It took Harry nearly twenty three seconds before he could register what was happening, and who this person even was. 

"Hey you. Haven't seen you around here before, you don't look like one to perform. Are you /stalking/ me?" The angel whispered in his usual hot, seductive and velvety voice. Harry's eyes closed on habit, and his head quickly shook back and forth. Louis only giggled, reaching up with a thin finger to poke at Harry's sternum. 

"Meet me at the club again. I'll give you a private lesson. I'll make your day a hell of a lot better, Styles." The small boy hummed, standing on his toes and kissing the lanky shaking boy's cheek. But for once in a long, long time, Harry was smiling. Genuinely smiling. 

••••

Harry let out another uneasy giggle, his fingertip tapping the bottom of Louis's swollen lip before he kissed him again. "You're so great, Louis. So great, ya know? Because you're... You're just so special." Harry giggled, pulling this man against him by the waist and kissing his lips in a sneaky, slow and delusional kiss. This was going great, and it was seemingly not for another fifteen minutes before Harry pulled away. "Hey. Hey Lou, why don't you say we... Y'know, get out of here." Harry giggled, looking down at the ground and giggling like a pathetic... Schoolgirl. He was so far beyond smashed that he grew overly affectionate and cute. There was a seductive, horribly kinky Drunk Harry Styles, and totally cute little giggly man Harry Styles. Either way, he grew touchy. Very very touchy.

"You're such a lightweight, Hazza." Louis whispered in a giggle, giving Harry's chin a drunken kiss rather than his lips. Maybe he could fuck the sober into him. Hah. Harry made a small hum of surprise as the stripper pushed him into the bathroom wall, a weak groan bubbling from his throat when his head slammed back against the door. But he only let out a low chuckle after that, the horribly kinky Drunk Harry Styles finally kicking in with that slam. He turned around and pressed Louis's back flat against that heavy, black door, palms lifting up by the sides of his lovers head and pressing flat against the smooth black surface. 

"Have you missed me?" Louis chuckled into Harry's ear as he was pinned up against the door, his teeth scraping over the warm skin just under. Harry practically snarled a yes through that sloppy kiss, teeth pressing together and little gasps leaving who knows what mouth. 

The two stumbled back into their ratty sweatpants and scuffed boots and stretched T-shirts before collectively deciding that going back to Louis's apartment would be the better option. After Harry nearly threw himself into the street for a cab, Louis threw up on the floor and the two fumbled out a wad of cash, they finally arrived at Louis's grungy flat. Drunken cackles and girly giggles echoed in the still city-night as Louis pushed Harry down the sidewalk and into the house, and nearly threw him into the adjacent room. 

They dumped everything onto the floor, including their clothes, and raced to the bed. 

Louis watched as Harry bent down, picked up that liquor he'd snatched from the club and engulfed the bottle of cheap whiskey until it was nothing but lips, tipping his head back to take a hearty sip. Damn Louis's blurry mind– clouded by his alcohol intake– because all it could focus on was how those lips would look wrapped around his cock. Harry hummed when Louis instinctively pushed him down onto the mattress and rubbed his hips against the ones beneath him in an attempt to create some friction, or at least for a little relief.

"Mm... I'm gonna do dirty things to you, Styles. And you're going to like it," Louis whispered before hastily reaching for the lubricant that he kept on the beside table. Oops. "And I'm going to like it." He hadn't actually done the routine before that previous Wednesday night. But he certainly knew enough about gay porn and lap dancing to figure it out. Once it was taught, it never really went away. 

"Yeah— m'ready. C'mon Lou, ravish me. Please." Harry begged in a slur from the mattress, clawing at any piece of bare skin he could get ahold of. More more more, closer closer closer. His mind was somehow less jumbled than it had been that morning; at least now, Harry knew what he wanted. 

Louis bit the bottom of Harry's lip and elicited a yelp from the younger's throat, all the while his hands fumbling with the bottle of lube. There would be other times for a dry fuck– just not now. This was just being reintroduced to both boys; they could get kinkier as time progressed. If they progressed. For now it was up to mastering the basics, and that was exactly what Louis planned on doing. "I'm glad you've granted me permission," he murmured with a sarcastic chuckle, "but that's exactly what I'm going to do." With a small grunt he spread Harry's legs a bit further. God, he still couldn't believe how muscular those thighs were, how god damn toned. He slid into the newfound V and supported himself with one arm while the other set to sliding one slick finger in, then two. "You're so tight," he whispered in a breathy laugh. "We'll just have to change that." As his two fingers continued working, Louis's mouth would press sloppy kisses anywhere they could: Harry's cheekbones, chest, cheeks, all of the above. It was all so smooth and soft. 

Harry couldn't help but whimper again and again, his sanity being thrown out the metaphorical window. It became a thirst, a /need/ that burned, along with the alcohol, bright in his sparkling eyes. This beautiful, beautiful man. This gorgeous, perfect, breathless angel on top of him. He was obviously eager for some contact, as was Louis, whose cock stood straight and pulsing. The lights were dimmed, the liquor was warm, and they were both hungry for whatever they could get. "I'm going to make you feel good," Louis whispered against Harry's collarbone. The skin was dark with his lovebite prior. A mark. He wanted Harry to be able to see on himself how good the night had been by the morning. He wanted it to be a reminder, wanted the students and teachers to all see this claim. "You're going to be moaning my name with each gasping breath. /Loud/, Harry. I want people to hear. I want. The neighbors. To hear you scream my name." They would be whispering each other's name between the sheets in a way they never had before. It was kind of like a first time again, except this go, Harry and Louis knew the ropes.

Louis gave a twist of his nimble fingers and a scream nearly ripped through Harry's young throat. Then his fingers slid out all at once, despite the others cries for more. He licked each one before running his tongue over his lips slowly -almost in a torturous way. Careful and gentle with a sexy edge, he reminded himself. That was how he would approach this. With one hand, he held Harry, who was a squirming mess, steady underneath him. The other he used to direct himself where to go, until he eventually got the hang of it and thrusted freely into Harry's tight hole.

Harry squirmed under Louis's lips, which were ghosting just over the sweaty skin of his collarbone. If only Louis knew, if only Louis could fathom how much Harry had been /craving/ this for so long. How easy it was to forget his family and the guilt trip with Zayn and everything else just by doing this. But then again, Louis probably did. Harry's thin, pale waist arched cleanly off the bed, his nails scraping and clawing at Louis's thick biceps. "Jesus fucking Christ, Louis. Just.. Fast." Harry breathed, his voice coming out in a hitched moan. It was hard to describe, in words, how someone like Louis Tomlinson– with indescribably perfect features– was doing this to someone like Harry. He was doing him a favor. The moment he heard that sharp demand his from Louis's lips and onto that throbbing lovebite, Harry's fist tightened in that caramel fringe and pushed that floppy head even closer to his skin. He pressed his lips under Louis's ear and let out a shaky whimper of a moan, the deep sound vibrating and raspy in his throat. "F-fuck me harder Louis. Want- want to be ravished. Do whatever y-you want." Harry managed to stammer, his head still buried into Louis's neck and shoulders. Harry liked being pushed down into the mattress, teased until he would explode, played with like a toy. Louis was absolutely brilliant when it came to all of those things. Harry's thighs were already quivering, his legs aching as they were bent and raised for Louis to get through this easier. His lips were swollen probably bleeding, and his neck was throbbing. And yet, everything was perfect.

He let out a high pitched whine when Louis snapped his hips into that perfect little collection of nerves in the center of his hips. His eyebrows furrowed in the middle and his eyes clenched shut until the skin wrinkled, teeth barred and jaw clenched. But after a few struggled breaths he relaxed, jaw going slack and his eyelids smoothing out. He fluttered them open so he could watch Louis power overtop of him, weak little moans rumbling in the base of their throats. Harry's nails scraped down Louis's back, the crescent-shaped marks drawing up the red under that tanned flesh. If this was a soundtrack, Harry would buy ten copies and play them all on a loop and spend hours in the bathroom when his parents weren't home. But obedient little (big– BIG) Harry raised his hands above his head and gripped the papery sheets with white knuckles and trembling fingers. He let out a weak whimper and wiggled his hips up, panting and chanting in a breathless tone. "G-gonna cum, Lou I. I'm gonna.. Hnn...Louis. Y-yes." Harry cried, his breathing sounding like choked whimpers of only pleasure. 

Harry's eyes were nearly rolled back into his head by the time Louis hit that spot again. When you really think about how a person can react to certain sexual movements, it gets kind of creepy. Harry's muscles would twitch and spasm and his breath would only come out in hitched whimpers. He found it harder to talk, and his body was almost completely limp. Something about what this– well to put it blatantly– stranger was doing made Harry go weak. "L-l-Louis-" Harry stammered, his jaw slacked and his breathing in shaky gasps. He reached up and clawed at Louis's chest, just trying to grip /something/ to pull the man closer. The heat in his stomach bubbled and nearly boiled over, so close. Harry gripped Louis's shoulders and weakly pulled Louis's torso into his own, his own head burying yet again into the crevice of Louis's neck. Harry's breathing grew into louder and longer moans, and his teeth desperately nibbled and kissed Louis's reddened skin. "Lou I.. Nnynh... Gonna, Louis-" Harry's (very loud) voice picked up to a few pitches higher, and soon enough he was cumming in white hot ribbons. His muscles tensed around Louis's shoulders, arms locked into a bent grip that clutched his lover ever so close. His throbbing cock twitched until it was achingly sensitive, and he could feel that warmth dribble down his milky thighs. All Harry could do was pant now, slowly calming down from his high as his entire body quivered under Louis's– he was speechless.

Harry gasped when he felt the other pulse inside of him, his thighs quivering even more with each wave of climax. His breath was shaky against Louis's sweaty shoulder, his thick, swollen lips whispering "Louis.. Louis. Louis." Over and over and over with eyes all bugged out and glossed over. He was still in that bear hug with the man, but everything felt so warm. So... Safe. Protected. Harry's breathing began to lengthen, tiny moans turning into hums and purrs of ecstasy. He pulled away with the little strength he had, and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to Louis's lips. Nothing like before, this was tender and lazy and absolutely great. 

Louis was still breathless, except not because of his forceful orgasm. This time, it was Harry. He was so gentle, so tender with each movement after. Thank God, too; Louis was utterly boneless. His body was done for the night, and he barely had the strength to lean in to press a communicative kiss to Harry's bare skin. It felt good to have Harry's big and protective arms around him, and for the first time, Louis was going to fall asleep in them. No worries for the time being, just calm and collective and slow. 

"G'night... Sleep Haz. Dream of me tonight, you can make me breakfast in the morning." 

Harry fell asleep with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is. My first fic. Thanks again to the sweetest girl in the world for letting me post on her account, and hopefully you'll all check out her other brilliant works too. All feedback is welcome, thanks for reading!! 
> 
> ~Emma


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